Wicked Wednesday: Toni

In honor of Scintillectual’s first Wicked Wednesday: here’s the first Woman I’m Not Supposed to Want

“I am going to fuck Alicia tonight, Toni.”

 She looks at me. The look a married woman gives a woman who isn’t her wife but who she wants to fuck.

“But first, I’m going to fuck you.”

That gets her attention.

We’ve gone for a walk in a cemetary. Alicia is a genealogist and has found out that some of her ancestors were buried here. Alicia and Michaela have left us behind, interested in the headstone rubbings and the particular gravesites they are looking for. I know, it’s odd, but Alicia’s a doll so we indulge her. They haven’t even noticed that we aren’t with them. We can barely see them in the distance.

At the first tall headstone, tall enough to hide us from view, I stop Toni and push her against it. Yeah, I’m femme and, yes, I’m bottom. But in this moment? I want her. I want to feel her wetness, hear her breathing get faster, feel her tense because she has to be quiet.

I lean into her and kiss her but I – we- don’t have time for foreplay. Any more, foreplay, I should say. We’ve been having it for days. Teasing phone calls and text messages, emails, tweets. Yeah, we don’t need any more foreplay.

I unbutton her jeans and slide my hand inside them. Thank GOD that she wears her jeans loose and that she isn’t wearing underwear. I want to be more gentle, take more time, build up to this, but really? I can’t.

She’s already wet and I slide my ring and middle fingers into her. She takes in her breath. “You like that?” All she does is nod. Well, nod and move her hips, trying to get me deeper inside of her.

She’s warm and wet, she’s silky and smooth, I want to have more of me inside her. I slide my index finger inside her as well. She spreads her legs a little farther apart, she opens herself up to me, letting me fill her. I want to kiss her but I want something else even more.

I drop the scarf that she made such fun of me for wearing on the ground so that I can kneel on that and not get my jeans wet. Easier to explain away a dirty, wet scarf than wet knees. I drop to my knees in front of her and tug her pants down.

For days, I’ve been wondering what she tastes like. I’ve been imagining what she’d feel like against my face, what she smells like, what sounds she makes when she has an orgasm. Kneeling in front of her, I breathe her in, savoring the musky sweetness of her. But we don’t have a lot of time – and I have been waiting long enough.

As soon as my tongue touches her clit, she moans and staggers slightly. I want her to come and I want her to come quickly, so I don’t tease. I fuck her, my fingers moving in and out of her, matching the rhythm of her hip movements. I press on G spot, tapping almost, while I fuck her. It’s so good, it feels so good.

Intoxicating. I want to forget where we are, forget how little time we have and explore her body properly. This – this is almost worse than not having done it at all. She tastes so good – it’s hard to describe a woman’s taste, isn’t it? Everyone is so different. It’s even harder to describe how she feels inside.

I want her to come for me. I suck her clit into my mouth, I swirl my tongue around it, I make myself do it slowly, even though we are in a hurry. Oh, GOD, I can feel her start to come. She can’t say anything, just in case someone should her but she moans, she grabs my head, she pulls my head closer and I feel the warm wetness gush out of her, her legs give way and she nearly falls. But she doesn’t.

I stand up and kiss her.

I’m a practical girl. I pull baby wipes out of my pocket to wash my face and hers and pop a mint in my mouth.

Once she gathers herself, she pulls her jeans back up and grins at me.

 “You are such trouble,” she says.

 Trouble? Yeah, I am.